From the Beginning
by HappyKittens
Summary: The relationship between Mr. Burns and Waylon Smithers Senior, from when Smithers is first hired until his death.
1. Chapter 1

Monty Burns always loved firing old employees and hiring new ones. Well, the hiring of new employees was actually starting to get tedious. There were only so many insults you could throw at these people; only so many over-the-top questions you could ask. Most of the reactions fell into three categories anyway. The 'ass-kisser', the 'polite prospective employee' and, Burns' favorite, the 'man that's been pushed too far'. Of course, he never hired the last types. They were just wonderful amusement.

A hard chair had been set up in front of Burns' large desk. It looked lonely, sitting there in the center of the room. The other decorations in the room were large: a large desk, a gigantic chair, two huge paintings. Even the window was oversized.

The time of day didn't help much. Light came in through the giant window, so that whoever was in the chair couldn't be seen at all. The tiny wooden chair had been set right in the shadow of of larger one.

The Nuclear Power Plant had just been built, and he had fired his assistant from the biological weapons lab. If the man couldn't stop those damned hippie radicals from breaking in and destroying his precious germs, he saw no good in keeping him around. Besides, a new business meant a new set of employees. Why waste time trying to retrain someone old? They would just want higher pay.

The biggest problem with having no one else around was that he had to leave his comfortable chair and ask for another of the prospective employees to come inside to be interviewed. It was a huge hassle. The only bright side was to see the line of men standing and looking tired and impatient while they waited their turns.

Burns opened the door and surveyed the masses. Ahh, sweet suffering. He pointed at one of the men, a man nearing middle-age who was staring down at his resumé nervously. Burns took him for a type-1.

"You. Inside. Come on, we don't have all day." He disappeared into his office and sat down at his desk. The man followed him in, set his resumé on Burns' desk, and took a seat.

Snatching the sheet off his desk, Burns gave it a perfunctory once-over. The only information he actually read was the man's name. He set it back on his desk.

"My first question, Mr. Smithers, is why do you want to work here at Springfield Nuclear Power?" Burns asked. He knew that people hated that question.

"Well, there are a lot of reasons, I guess." Waylon Smithers said. "Uh, one reason being that I need to make some money to keep my apartment and buy food and clothes." He smiled sheepishly. "But, uh, I've found that I make a good assistant. I don't expect to be your personal assistant right away, but it's a, uh, strength of mine. I always used to help my mom around the house when I was younger, and back in school I would always be the one to run errands for the teachers or gather supplies when I worked in a group."

Smithers paused. He wasn't sure if he should continue. The next thing he wanted to say sounded like he was sucking up, but it was the truth. "I'm also interested in Nuclear Power. It's a new technology, isn't it?"

It took Burns a moment to realize that he had been asked a question. "It is, yes." He answered.

"And, yeah. It's been moving so quickly. I just wanted to, you know, be around and learn about it. I all ready know a little. It's sort of a hobby of mine."

Burns nodded, although he knew Smithers couldn't see him due to the blinding light from the window.

Smithers shifted uneasily in his seat. "That's, uh, why I want to work here." He finished.

"Okay, good." Burns was readying a question. Something to expose any lies in the man's other answer. "When was the first Nuclear Power Plant built?"

"Nineteen fifty-four, wasn't it? The one in the USSR? Or do you mean the one in England in fifty-six?"

Ahh, he had to have been telling the truth then. Burns worked on another question for a moment. "What, exactly, makes you think you'd make a good assistant?"

Again, Smithers shifted uneasily. "Well, it's mostly a feeling. I mean, why did you want to build a nuclear power plant? Why does anyone want do do the line of work they do? I don't know. I've just always been good at it, and it keeps me happy."

"Mmm."

They sat there in silence as Burns tried to think of another question. It usually wasn't this hard. By the first question, he always had things to throw back in the faces of these people. This man was different.

Burns yanked open the drawer to his desk. He had an old pin in there that had belonged to Davies, his father's old assistant, that simply said 'Assistant to Mr. Burns'. He threw it at Smithers.

"Tell the next man to come in." He said.

Smithers smiled widely and put on the button. "Right away, sir." He replied, standing up and hurrying outside to send the next man in.


	2. Chapter 2

Smithers was in bright and early the next day to continue helping Mr. Burns with the interviews. The night before, he hadn't said much besides 'Get here early tomorrow' and 'I might find someone better, so don't get too comfortable'.

The gates weren't open yet. Smithers suspected that he was a little early. It must only be a little past six thirty...

Leaning against the metal gates, Smithers closed his eyes and remembered how happy his girlfriend had been when he called her up. He had been looking for a job to replace his old one for ages. Working in a factory was a boring and tedious job; one that Smithers was terrible at. He was always tired and grumpy when he got home. He had few benefits, and was often treated like a piece of machinery. _Anything_, he reasoned, would be better than that.

Although Burns hadn't promised him the job, Smithers had quit his old one. He was sure that his new boss wouldn't fire him. No, he'd make sure that Burns would be too impressed to even consider it.

His happiness depended on it.

Smithers thought of his girlfriend again. She was a wonderful girl, and he had been planning on asking her to marry him for almost a year. The problem was that he never had enough money to buy a ring and a fancy dinner. He needed those. He wouldn't propose if he didn't have them. With his old job, he barely had enough money left after rent and other necessities to attempt to save it up. Oh, he still did, but in that year he had only saved about a hundred dollars.

What good was that?

Smithers looked down at his watch. It was almost 7:00. He was sure that Mr. Burns would be in sometime between then and 9:00. When, exactly, he had no idea. How early did he wake up? How much time did he need before he began interviews?

His answer came at 8:24, when an old-looking car pulled up to the gate. The man driving looked like a chauffeur. When it slowed to a stop before the gates, Mr. Burns stepped out from the back and looked at Smithers.

"Good, good. You're here." he said, and turned to his driver. "You may go. Be back at 8:00 sharp." He unlocked the gate as the car drove away.

"Beautiful vehicle, Mr. Burns." Smithers said, trying to make conversation.

"Mm. I inherited it from my father when he died." Burns said as the gate swung open. He sighed at it. It was the best thing he could have put up on such short notice, and it displeased him greatly. Smithers picked up on this.

"Would you like me to see if I can find a better gate for the plant?" He asked. "Maybe one of those new electric ones, or... I know! We'll have a guard house here," He pointed to the center of the pavement between each side of the fence, "And we'll have places where cars can drive in here, and out over there. The guard will be able to check each person coming in, and only lift the gate if the person is an employee." When he was finished explaining, he looked at Mr. Burns.

For a while he just stood there, looking thoughtful. "Wonderful idea, Smithers. I'd like you to work on it, but for now, we must get inside and get ready for more interviews."

They began walking toward the building across a vast parking lot.

"Did you have breakfast?" Smithers asked.

"I haven't had breakfast since I was a boy." Burns replied, "It's not important, and besides, I don't have the time. Maybe you do, with your simple little life, but I have things to do and people to give commands to."

"I could fix you up something quick, sir. It wouldn't take long, and I'm sure you'd be finished before people started coming."

Burns frowned. He hated to admit that the idea was tempting. "There is no food in the plant, Smithers. Remember, the only people actually working here are us. Plus, I haven't bothered to add anything to the break room. You can't cook anything."

"I have cereal in my car." Smithers replied. "In fact, I could drive us up so that we don't have to walk all this way."

Burned looked off into the distance. It was a long walk from the gate to his office. "Why didn't you mention this before?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Sorry, sir. My car is kinda... in bad shape. I hope you won't mind." Smithers said. "Wait here, I'll go get it."

With that, Smithers sprinted off toward his car.

Mr. Burns heard it coming long before he saw it. It sputtered and coughed. Obviously, it was in terrible shape and needed a tune-up. Badly.

It appeared. Burns remembered driving by the thing on his way up to the plant. He had thought it had been abandoned. It seemed like it was painted an ugly brown, but it was terribly rusty and dirty, so it was difficult to tell if the brown was it's true color or just dirt. The passenger's side door was close to falling off, one of the tires was an undersized spare, and the front grill was missing.

It stopped before Mr. Burns, and Smithers popped out and smiled sheepishly at his boss.

"Will the door fall off if I open it?" Burns asked.

"Um. Probably. You can sit in the back. I cleaned it out last night, just in case." He said.

Mr. Burns opened the door. It was completely devoid of the crumbs and old papers and assorted trash that he had been expecting to see. The ripped leather seats were shiny from being wiped down. The floor had been vacuumed, even. The only thing in the car was a paper bag. Burns sat down beside it and closed the door.

Smithers slid in and started driving.

"The cereal is in that bag. Uh, most of it is opened, sorry. I brought it from home." He explained.

Burns peered inside the bag, and pulled out a couple boxes. He had never thought much of cereal. Well, he had never had any in his life. Why eat cereal when you have a chef willing to make any food you wanted?

"What do you recommend?" he asked, looking at a box of Raisin Bran.

Smithers looked in the rear view mirror to see what Burns was doing. "That one is good." Smithers replied. "The raisins add a sort of sweetness to it."

"I see." Burns said, dropping the box back into the bag. "Am I supposed to eat it out of the box?"

"No. I have bowls and spoons up here. No milk, sorry. Mine had gone bad."

Burns shrugged. He wasn't sure what the milk would be for anyway. As a beverage? They had water in the plant. Drinkable water.

The rest of the ride went by in silence. Well, as silent as things could be in the loud car. Burns read the back of the cereal boxes with mild interest until, finally, the car stopped.

Burns stepped out of it, holding the box of raisin bran under his arm. "Why don't you get this jalopy fixed, Smithers?" He asked as Smithers grabbed the paper bag with the bowls in it from the passenger seat.

"I don't have the money." Smithers replied, shutting his door.

"Oh." Burns replied. He almost felt guilty. He hadn't known this man for long, but had all ready helped him out so much. How many people would bring in food just for your boss? Clean out their car just in case his boss were to ride in it?

That was when Burns decided to tell him at the end of the day that he had gotten the job. He had all ready decided to hire Smithers, but he had been planning on making him wait until the end of the week to find out.

As far as Burns was concerned, it was an act of immeasurable kindness.


End file.
